From the
comfort of the Fram it is hard to imagine the harsh conditions that
Shackleton’s men had to endure in Point Wild. The Boss was long gone on an
uncertain and dangerous voyage to South Georgia. Weeks and months passed but no
relief ship appeared on the horizon. Frank Wild did his best trying to keep
spirits but I was evident to anyone ashore that their situation was desperate. Nobody
in the world knew their whereabouts and nobody would ever look for them in this
small beach hidden behind a pointed rocky outcrop on the lonely northern shore
of Elephant Island. Nobody but Shackleton…
Today, as
MV Fram steamed its way into the small cove of Point Wild, the twenty two polar
castaways of the Endurance were in everyone’s minds. The precipitous dark cliff
behind the surf washed beach, the chinstrap penguin rookery that feed the
helpless explorers and the menacing blue ice of the hanging glacier. Everything
was there, exactly as it was a hundred and five years ago. Except for a little
monument dedicated to Piloto Pardo.
As August
passed by, the harshest part of the winter of 1916 was history. Unaware of the
upcoming conclusion of the Endurance drama, the twenty two most destitute men
of the Antarctic continued their mass slaughter of chinstrap penguins. Because it
was the penguins, the grand grand parents of the very same penguins we are
seeing today, that kept them alive. Then, on August 30th, 1916, the small
Yelcho commanded by Piloto Pardo, appeared in the horizon. A rowing boat was
launched. On the bow, the castaways recognized the figure of Shackleton. “Are
you all well?” he said. “We are all well, Boss” replied Wild. The saga of the
Endurance was over. So is our pursuit of Shackleton’s footsteps.
We are now
heading towards the main group of the South Shetland Islands and the northern
tip of the Antarctic Peninsula. Birds and whales are our only companions on this
last stretch to the Seventh Continent. Tomorrow we will be in another world…
